


Homecoming Queen?

by armadillosunset



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hits You In The Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No homecoming dances I promise, Sad Louis Tomlinson, Smoking, not even any dancing either, sad or angst I never know where the line is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armadillosunset/pseuds/armadillosunset
Summary: Hey homecoming queen,How’s things at home?Are you walking on eggshellsWhen that curtain’s closed?—Louis is at his breaking point.And, sometimes, all anyone needs is for someone to care.—Inspired by the song ‘Homecoming Queen?’ by Kelsea Ballerini
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Homecoming Queen?

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!:
> 
> There is mention of self-harm (cutting). Only one sentence, and it is only mentioned as something that happened in the past, no detail beyond that.

_Hey homecoming queen_  
_Why do you lie?_  
_When somebody’s mean,_  
_Where do you hide?_

Tendrils of smoke curled in thin pale waves as it escaped Louis’s lips, drifting upward into the night sky. He pulled his knit jumper tighter around his small frame, blocking out the chill of an early spring evening, as he took another drag from the cigarette in his hand. It was his second one—he had been out here awhile, leaning against the siding of the house on the bit of rooftop outside his bedroom window.

He was contemplating on whether he should think about things or not think and stare blankly into another cigarette’s worth of smoke, when his window slid open, his sister’s blonde head popping out. She smiled when she finally found him not far off.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”

“Not now, Lots.” Louis grumbled as he blew his held round of smoke, his lungs thankful to be clear.

“I had a chat with Pheebs and she’s sorry, she didn’t mean it. You know how kids are.” Lottie gave her brother a hopeful grin.

“I said not now.” His voice was more of a sigh rather than angry. He was tired after years of never being taken seriously, of nobody ever listening, understanding. This was just another line on the list. “Just let me be.”

“Well, just so you know, I called Harry. Said he’d be right over. He should be able to pull you right out of this little funk you’re in.”

It wasn’t a funk, but he didn’t have the energy to protest. “He does have that tendency, being with me this long and all.” Unfortunately.

“That’s the spirit!” Lottie gave a quick fist pump before pulling her head back and closing the window.

Louis closed his eyes and took another drag.

  
_Do people assume_  
_You’re always alright?_  
_Been so good at smiling_  
_Most of your life._

  
“Please, Louis! Pretty please!”

“No.” Louis growled as he sat hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table, papers strewn about in front of him. He was neck deep in paperwork, simultaneously addressing long overdue thank-you cards and sorting out months of bills everyone was too lazy to deal with other than throwing them into a pile on the counter for someone else to worry about. Unfortunately, that someone was Louis. It was always Louis.

“But everyone is going! Pleeeeease!” One of the twins whined at him as she put away the dinner dishes, clearly trying to buy his favor in the moment. If she wasn’t begging for something, Louis would have ended up having to put away the dishes himself before going to bed.

His mind was so twisted around these pieces of paper—why hadn’t anyone set up online bill pay for any of this? Now he’d have to do that too to avoid future hassle. He was too consumed to even try figuring out whether it was Daisy or Phoebe currently whining at him. Not that it mattered, the other would be around at some point before he left asking for something herself. “No. Now drop it. I need to get this done. You could give me a hand, you know. You live here more than I do.”

She kept going. “Lou, an all-access pass is only, like, a few hundred. You have millions. That’s essentially pocket change for you!” The girl huffed as she slammed the door of the dishwasher. “Your shoes probably cost more than a festival ticket.”

“Exactly. I have millions, and you have jack shit. I worked my ass off for every cent I have so I can damn well spend it on myself. Go get a job if you want to go that bad. I’m not just giving you the money for everything you want.” 

“Oh yeah, sure. You sang a few songs, traveled the world, and had the absolute time of your life with your best friends. No school, no responsibilities, just fun. You really worked hard for your money, didn’t you.”

Louis looked up into the kitchen, his hands hovering over the laptop’s keys as the girl’s words cut into him—Phoebe’s words, it was Phoebe who was wearing a headband today, in a color Daisy absolutely despised—tiny knives piercing his heart. A heart that was already fragile from so many years of suffering.

He blinked at her a few times as something inside him cracked; just, cracked. He should have felt anger, pain, something, anything. But he didn’t. It was a numbness he had never experienced before, a void deep within that had opened, sucking in any emotion he had. Without a word, he gently closed the laptop and stood, pushing the chair in before leisurely walking to the stairs.

“Oh, so you’re leaving? Just up and walking away from this, because why not! That’s what you always do! You leave!”

And leave he did—up the stairs, down the hall, into his old room. He grabbed the fresh pack of cigarettes from his bedside table, slid on his jumper, and opened the window. All without a single word.

  
_Look damn good in the dress_  
_Zipping up the mess_  
_Dancing with your best foot forward._

  
Thinking, it was, then.

Louis could still hear the words rattle around in his mind as he snubbed the cigarette butt against the roof shingles and pulled out another, lighting it right up.

‘Sang a few songs, traveled the world, had the absolute time of your life with your best friends.’

Was that really what it looked like to everyone? Five lads having the time of their lives, living their dreams? He supposed that was how it all began. But did no one see the shells they had all become by the end—the misery etched in their faces from keeping up a happy-faced charade for so long?

He still had nightmares of some of those meetings with management. Of the one that turned him from a sweet peppy young boy and into a brooding young man—an image he still couldn’t shake, making clothes shopping a nightmare of self-doubt, wondering if what he chose was good enough for his image, okay enough. Particularly the meeting that flat out shamed him for loving who he did—and Louis still wasn’t sure what had hurt more: being told he couldn’t be in love or that they had made Harry cry and sent him into his first, and thank god only, foray into cutting.

And those words, too, wormed their way back into his head. He could still hear Harry’s young, shaking voice all these years later, could still see the look of shame on his love’s face when he caught Harry in the tour bus toilet. ‘I thought if I could associate loving you with pain, then I could stop. But it’s not working, Lou. I still love you. I still love you.’

The other three didn’t escape their own tragic meetings unscathed, or their lives for that matter. 

Louis recalled pulling the strong one out of his depression after messy breakups, building him up and pushing him forward because he knew the boy and knew he needed it, he would pull him down from his highs and drag him up from his lows. He was the one to give reassuring words when the quiet one needed to do what was best for him and step away. The loud one would always pull him to the side, frightened, and Louis would give him comforting words, defending him, affirming that he belonged. He remembered all those nights in hotel rooms, laying in bed, when he would hold the love of his life close, whispering sweet words of promises of future days without any of this pain.

But none of those were Louis’s story to tell.

  
_Does it get hard_  
_To have to play the part?_  
_Nobody’s feeling sorry for ya._

  
There were stories that he could tell.

Like the time he promised his mum he would look after everyone, take care of everyone. He swore an oath as he sat on that hospital bed: keep the girls in school, raise the littles properly, keep everyone down on this earth instead of corrupted by fame. Hold them all together. Be their rock. He was the oldest, it was all up to him.

And all the promises he had made to his sisters that were ultimately broken from other commitments foisted on him that he couldn’t get out of. Like when Fizzy wanted him to go to her school play. When Lottie asked him to appear on her livestream. When Daisy needed help with a project. When Phoebe wanted him home for her birthday. And a hundred other things.

When he walked into the room and Ernest cried because he didn’t even recognize his brother, had no clue who Louis was. Or the times when Doris mistakenly called him ‘daddy’, not knowing what else to call him. No matter how he tried, he could never be around enough, never be enough of the brother any of them needed.

He should really be downstairs finishing paying the bills—they were only days away from the electric being cut, not from lack of funds but because no one could be bothered to pay it. No one could even address the thank-you cards from the outpouring of gifts after their mother’s services months ago—they were pre-printed, just needed a signature and a stamp.

As much as he wanted to throw it all in the air and walk away, he couldn’t. It was all on his shoulders to keep everything running.

  
_What if I told you the world wouldn’t end_  
_If you started showing what’s under your skin?_  
_What if you let them all in on the lie?_  
_Even the homecoming queen cries._

  
“Hey.”

A low, gravelly voice pulled Louis back to the present. He glanced over to see Harry, with as minimal grace as possible, climb through the window to join him outside.

“Brought one of your favorites.” The giraffe-boy smiled as he held out a paper coffee cup. Louis accepted the gift, sniffing the warm drink, and was pleasantly surprised pick up hints of sweet creamy chocolate mixed with the sharp tang of steeped tea. It was a strange combination, he had to admit, but he had made it by accident one night many years ago in the flat they used to have, and the strange mixture gained many comforting memories in the time since. He gave a weak smile that quickly faded as Harry sat beside him, his own cup in hand.

The pair sat in silence, side by side, sipping their drinks as Louis finished his cigarette, snubbing it out on a shingle like the last one and flicking it over the gutter and onto the grass below. He didn’t move to light another.

“Been ages since we’ve been up here,” Harry tentatively spoke, his face tilted up at the stars.

“Yeah, I suppose it has.”

“Lottie told me what happened.” Louis could feel the familiar tingle of Harry’s eyes on him, a sixth sense after all these years.

“I’m not in a funk.” He wasn’t. He was stretched thin, so very thin.

He had to be the oldest son and take care of his family now that his mother couldn’t.

He had to be a brother and be a role model for his siblings.

He had to be a father to a son halfway across the world.

He had to be a friend and look out for those he cared for, before he lost any more.

He had to maintain a meticulous image for the public. One that was nearly opposite of who he really was, who he yearned to be.

He had to cater to the whims of management, of society, of fans.

He had a record deal to think of. Bills to pay. Investments to watch.

He wanted to be there for Harry. Because Harry was one of the few good things left in the world.

  
_Yeah, what if I told you the sky wouldn’t fall_  
_If you lost your composure, said to hell with it all?_  
_Not everything pretty sparkles and shines_  
_And even the homecoming queen cries._

  
“I know it’s not a funk. We’ve been together long enough and I can see that much. This is different.” Harry lifted his hand and gently turned the other’s face towards him, looking into Louis’s eyes. “I know you have a lot going on right now, and I really want to know: are you okay?”

Louis could feel the burn of warm tears stinging his cold face as he finally broke down. “No, I’m not okay,” he whispered, his voice straining on the tears he so desperately wanted to hold back, and utterly failed to do so, as Harry pulled him closer. He pressed his face into Harry’s chest as he gave up and began to sob.

  
_Hey homecoming queen_  
_Why do you lie?_  
_When somebody’s mean,_  
_Where do you hide?_

  
Louis hadn’t been okay for a long time.

And it had been even longer since anyone thought to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to cut out parts of the song because it was too much, more than I needed. Give it a listen, it’s beautiful.
> 
> Also, guess who figured out how to do italics?
> 
> THIS GIRL! HIGH FIVE FOR ME! WHOO!


End file.
